


Creature Comforts

by Janice_Lester



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Omega Verse, Werewolves, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janice_Lester/pseuds/Janice_Lester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something weird happens to Jared one day.  Fortunately, his instincts serve him well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creature Comforts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "sensation play" square of my second [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) 2012 card. Features werewolves. Jared is underage (16) when he first meets the others, but an adult by the time the sexual relationship begins. Beta'd by [](http://vee-dub.livejournal.com/profile)[vee_dub](http://vee-dub.livejournal.com/).

It wasn’t always like this.

The first time, Jared had been sixteen, confused and uncomfortable in his own, unasked-for, brand new skin. Home had felt suddenly unfamiliar, all those bright white walls boxing him in. He’d half-run, half-tripped down the stairs, somehow managed to force himself out of the doggy door in the kitchen, and blinked into the twilight. Nothing had felt right. Not his body, not his mind. None of it made sense. His eyes seemed to be picking up fewer colours, and yet somehow his senses were overwhelmed by the world around him. And his unexpectedly multiplied feet seemed to know what they were doing, when he didn’t think too hard about it, but how could that be?

_What am I?_ he’d wondered vaguely. _Did I get turned into a dog? Did I upset a witch or something? But there’s no such thing as witches, right? Right?_

Instinct had carried him away, to what he didn’t know. But the big houses and yards of his street had slipped by as Jared trotted along, until they were replaced with the less ostentatious little houses of the less affluent area beyond the 711.

Something more intense than thought brought him up short, and Jared found himself sniffing the air, curious. Strange images teased at his mind, like some weird smokey light-show in the dark. He began to walk, then run, finally vaulting over someone’s neat picket fence without even a thought for his vulnerable belly. He made his way up the path, sniffing and panting, beside himself with enthusiasm for something he couldn’t name. He nosed at the door, but that didn’t seem like the right thing to do, so he raised a paw and scratched at it. Awkward, but it made the wooden door rattle in its frame, and this pleased him enough to do it again several more times.

Footfalls became audible from inside, and Jared yipped with excitement. He could feel his tail wagging merrily, and it was weird just how sensible having a tail sounded right now.

“Hello, hello,” said a voice, as the door swung open, “what have we here?”

Jared sat his ass down. It seemed polite, somehow. He looked up at the man. He was old, maybe in his thirties, but he was smiling and he seemed both familiar and friendly. Jared blinked a few times and managed to recall where he’d seen him before: at that private school, where Jared’s drama class went to see that bizarre Pinter play. This dude had been one of the drama teachers there, maybe.

“You’re not one of my students,” the man said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “A local, maybe?”

Jared had no idea how to answer him, so he just tilted his head hopefully to one side.

“All right. This is what we’ll do. Lift one of your front paws for ‘yes’, okay?”

Jared promptly sat up straighter, lifted his right foot up by his chest. His chest swelled with pride and his tail thumped the stoop.

“Excellent,” the man said, smiling. “Now, first things first. I’m guessing you’re stuck in that form.”

Jared lowered his paw so he could lift it up again.

“And you’re from Jeff Morgan’s pack?”

Jared dropped his foot. He tried to show his confusion with a shrug, but he doubted it worked very well.

“Oh,” the man said. Then he stepped back. “Come in. I’ll make a call, see if I can’t find out who’s meant to be helping you with your transformations. If you don’t know how to change, you won’t be able to _stop_ it if a change starts, and I don’t think it would do our current state of official-unofficial secrecy any good to have wolves turning into naked teenagers on suburban Texas streets.”

Jared blinked. Neither ‘yes’ nor ‘no’ seemed like a good response to that. So he just went obediently in, brushing against the man’s legs as he passed. He smelled good, somehow. Like incense and raspberries. Maybe he was a hippie who’d just been eating fruit?

The man collected a cordless phone from a table in the hall, carried it through into a room which was clearly both living room and dining area. He sat down on an ageing beige sofa, gestured for Jared to make himself at home. For some reason, that made Jared go and curl up on the rug at the guy’s feet.

The little tones the phone made as the guy dialled were oddly audible.

“Jim? Sebastian Roché. You guys missing any young wolves?”

_Okay,_ Jared thought, _so that’s his name. Wonder where he’s from? He doesn’t sound much like Texas._

“…so far’s I know,” the tinny phone-voice was saying. “Description?”

“Large with even larger feet. Pale, snow wolf. Male. Smart, but confused. Didn’t know how to answer me when I asked if he was from Jeff’s pack. And he’s stuck in fur.”

“Doesn’t ring any bells. Shall I send the wizard?”

“Please.”

The distant voice was suddenly muffled, but louder, and Jared found he could make out the words just fine. “Hey, Misha, you slacker! Get out here. Got a job for you.” There was a pause, and then the Jim-voice returned to normal. “He’ll be out there shortly, maybe ten minutes?”

“Excellent, thank you.”

“No problem. Take it easy.”

There was a click, and then Sebastian was clicking off the phone and leaning sideways to put it on a little coffee table at the end of the couch. He returned with something else in his hand. Jared peered at it. A brush.

“May I?” he said, gesturing towards Jared’s coat. “You’ll enjoy it.”

Jared believed him. His family had dogs, after all. So he got up onto his too many feet, positioned himself so Sebastian could reach easily.

The first stroke was tentative, but it still made Jared shiver. The second one got right down to the skin where he was unexpectedly itchy. Or ticklish. It was a little hard to tell. He squirmed closer, already luxuriating in the sensations.

“That’s it. You’re a nice, placid sort of wolf, aren’t you?”

Jared raised a paw.

Sebastian laughed and scratched him behind the ear. It was _wonderful_. “Lots of boys your age celebrate their first transformations with a bit of a rampage, go around scaring people and chasing cats. I like your approach much better.”

Jared made a contented noise and turned a little in the hopes of getting that itchy spot by his right hip attended to.

“Good, isn’t it? I love having my coat brushed. It’s most inconvenient that we lack those handy opposable thumbs in wolf form.”

Jared gave in to the urge to rest his chin on Sebastian’s knee. It felt _so_ good, the shivery tug of the bristles on his fur, the skin contact at the top of every stroke. The comforting rhythm of it, the subtle sounds. His eyes closed, and even his tail relaxed.

Time slipped by, unremarked.

Then there was a knock on the door, and Jared found himself growling before he even thought about it.

“Shush, now,” Sebastian said, rising. “We’re expecting a visitor, remember?”

Jared felt a surprisingly powerful jab of guilt at the reminder. He wanted to crouch down, to make himself smaller, to convince Sebastian of his contrition. But he also felt a desperate urge to race to the door to find out who was knocking.

“Let’s go, shall we?” Sebastian said, taking the choice out of Jared’s hands. Uh, paws. Whatever. This was all going to take some getting used to.

The person on the doorstep was younger than Sebastian, but older than Jared. He had the slightly preppy, slightly manic look Jared tended to associate with grad students.

“Sebastian!” He flew into Sebastian’s arms in a blur of movement, wrapped his arms and legs around and held on.

“Misha, Misha, Misha, is this any way to greet a distant acquaintance?”

“It should be,” Misha said, and kissed Sebastian’s nose before disembarking. He turned his piercing gaze on Jared, who looked up at him, considering. “And what have we here?” He crouched down, offered his hand. Jared sniffed it, found it inoffensive and unalarming. He relaxed.

“If you could just do your thing and get him turned back into a real little boy again, that would be—”

“Hey!” Jared snapped, though it came out more like an offended squeak.

“Joking, sweetheart,” Sebastian said, and patted Jared’s head. Strange how easy instant forgiveness seemed to be when you were a wolf.

“Okay, charming stranger,” Misha said, dropping from his crouch to a full-on yoga position right there in the entryway. “Lie down and get comfy. Good. Now I want you to imagine that you’re just hanging out in the woods somewhere. Maybe you have a nice campfire, can you imagine that? Staring into the flames, watching the sparks flicker and dance, smelling woodsmoke and green things. Hearing the crackle of sticks and that occasional delightful whistle that means an unfortunate snail is boiling in its shell…”

Jared blinked his eyes open. _Boiling snails? Just what kind of camping did this guy practice?_

“Shh,” Misha said. “Focus. You’re in the woods. No light except for the fire. So you stare at the fire. It’s pretty. It’s warm on your fur, too hot, almost. So you turn away, roll over, and just slip out of your fur and back into—”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Jared groaned, in too much pain to realise right away that he’d actually managed to speak for the first time in what felt like all afternoon.

“Yes, there does tend to be that brief sensation of all your bones breaking. It gets easier, the more you do it. Come on, let’s go get you a nice hot water bottle and some hard liquor.”

And then there were two sets of strong hands grabbing him, lifting him up until his feet—just two, and completely bare now—found the floor. Then he was being led back into the living room, laid out on the couch. Someone spread a scratchy wool blanket over him. He ought, Jared thought vaguely, to be a lot more disturbed at suddenly finding himself naked in a strange house with two strange men. But worrying seemed like too much effort, so he just yawned instead.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Sebastian asked gently.

“Jared. Jared Padalecki.”

“Hmm,” Misha put in, from the far wall where he seemed to have located a drinks cabinet. “Don’t think I know any Padaleckis. Are both your parents werewolves, or just one?”

“Um, neither? I mean, as far as I know?”

Two blue-eyed gazes turned full on him.

Jared shrugged, embarrassed. “Didn’t know there was such a thing. I mean, in real life.”

“You’d have to be a pretty irresponsible parent not to prepare your kid for the possibility—” Misha began, just as Sebastian said— “Perhaps his parentage isn’t, uh, how shall I say—?”

Jared was beginning to feel a headache coming on. “Hey, wasn’t I promised hard liquor?”

***

After the drinks and the clothes-borrowing and the uncomfortable conversations, Sebastian drove him home for _more_ uncomfortable conversations. Which is how two werewolves—two _other_ werewolves; clearly he had to start thinking of himself as one—came to be there when Jared learned he was adopted. That his real parents were a cousin from Oklahoma and her high school boyfriend who hadn’t lived to see him born. Her _werewolf_ high school boyfriend, apparently.

Mom was pissed and kept ranting about having to call and Have Words with certain relations out in Tulsa.

On the plus side, Misha and Sebastian both left Jared their numbers, and promised to take him out to exciting lupine events, whatever those were.

So, pretty much his life was turned upside down. And yet very little actually changed. He still had the same family, the same friends, he went to the same school, he had the same dreams. There was just the new part, where sometimes he turned into a wolf and ran about on four feet. Which didn’t exactly suck. And of course, there were the belly scratches and grooming sessions. Must’ve been hundreds of those the first few years.

***

He’s older now; it feels as if a lifetime’s passed since that day he stepped out of the shower and somehow accidentally shifted into his previously-unknown wolf form. He’s in college now, learning to be an architect. But he still goes home as often as he can manage, and while he’s there he always finds the time to go and see Sebastian.

Wonderful Sebastian.

He butts the man’s elbow when he pauses the awesome tummy rub for some stupid reason like needing to scratch an itch of his own. Sebastian laughs and starts up with the other hand, a long, slow, endless up and down massage that has Jared wriggling, his furry back rubbing deliciously against the carpet.

“The trouble with this penchant you have for human attention, Jared, is that precise communication is rather difficult when we’re in dissimilar forms.”

Jared does his best puppy dog eyes. It’s just not the _same_ getting a massage when he doesn’t have fur. It’s a Thing.

“Oh, all right, then.” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “But we could at least take turns.”

Just like that, Jared shifts. Because Seb is totally right about the communication thing; mind-to-mind only works between wolves, and if you’re a wolf you can’t _speak_. Sebastian just goes calmly on rubbing his naked belly as if the wolf he’s molesting suddenly turning into a twenty-something human isn’t a big deal. “We _could_ take turns,” Jared agrees. “Or we could both be human and go 69 in your bed as per usual.”

“Right,” Sebastian says, and smirks. “Works for me.” He starts to get up.

“Not yet, you ass. You missed a spot. And get the brush, would you?” Jared shifts imperiously back to his wolf form. He needs his creature comforts, damn it.

 

***END***


End file.
